


crumbling

by avintageoilpaintingofyou



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Luther is weirded out by Dolores, but lowkey who isn't, cue side eye emoji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 09:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19017118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintageoilpaintingofyou/pseuds/avintageoilpaintingofyou
Summary: As Luther stared at him now, his impression that he held to Five for the past 30 years seemed to crumble away.  This boy – man – in front of him, while still wearing the same face when Luther last saw him, was unrecognizable.Luther’s heart ached.-aka a slight au where Luther finds Five in the van himself and they proceed to have a heart to heart of sorts . . . well as good as any pair of estranged brothers can do with the apocalypse on the horizon.





	crumbling

**Author's Note:**

> the last thing i ever thought i would write was something from luther's pov but here we are ! 
> 
> gotta admit, it's been a minute since i binged tua so if there are a few details amiss or wrong, whoops !! ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> so this au is basically like if both of them had a smidge more of patience and klaus wasn't there
> 
> and as tunnel vision(ed?) as they both are, they confide in each other . . . a lil bit

 ☂ 

 

Luther, by definition, was an awkward person. Socially, emotionally, and physically. Though the latter was newer. He used to be so fluid and graceful in his youth, but the moment he woke up with more than average hair growth on his body, his body broader and bulkier than before, he felt like a teeter-totter. Lifting one leg then eventually letting his other leg drop. Always off balance. It took him a couple years to get used to, and with those years on the Moon in a space suit were definitely not a help.

Though when he came back to Earth, movement became easier and more fluid and by the end of the first day - and in a middle of a sprawl with his brother - he thought he was back at it. That was, until he punched Ben’s statue square in the crotch, causing it to topple over and  - unfortunately - decapitate it. 

He quickly came to the conclusion that maybe he wasn’t as balanced as he thought. 

Though his movement was the least of his worries. It’s his siblings that he was more worried about. Suddenly thinking that since their father was gone they were running rampant, like they could do anything they wanted. Diego walking around like he knew everything. Klaus scouring the drawers in Dad’s office, the abhorrent amount of disrespect was baffling.

And everyone brushing him off of his concern for their father’s _murder_? Though as he reflected back on the moment, he’d wished he handled it better. Apparently, accusing your siblings as a suspect of your apparent father’s murder doesn’t go over very well. Especially right before his memorial service.

Where ever Luther went, awkwardness was sure to follow.

The following two days ran hot and cold. There were some fleeting moments where he felt okay, stable. Understood. Then Luther would open his mouth, apparently saying or asking the wrong thing, and it was like everything was his fault. He’d wish he’d bite his tongue more. But he was on a mission, and he knew that if his siblings only knew one thing about him it was this: When his eyes were set on something, there was nothing anyone could do to tear his sight away.

Five, growing up, called that narrow-minded.

Luther disagreed.

When Allison uncovered the security footage it felt like a step in the right direction. Seeing Grace give Dad his nightly tea and then just stand at the doorway felt like an answer. He stared at that footage for hours. Did she poison his tea? Is that what triggered his heart failure? Or was it a mere coincidence? Even as the latter thought crossed his mind, he didn’t believe it for a second. He made up his mind.

Grace killed Dad. Why? He didn’t know. She was a machine, she was probably old and worn, there must’ve been a glitch in her wiring, or maybe someone coded it . . . and Diego and Mom were always close. Diego was always very protective of her even if she was a machine.

 _Maybe_ . . . he shook his head. He couldn’t jump to conclusions now. The last time he did that it didn’t go over very well.

As he glanced up at the footage one last time, he couldn’t help but feel a soft pang in his chest. Though he quickly squashed it down. He wouldn’t have any sympathy for a killer. Though as he and Allison questioned Grace, it became all the more clear at how much more frazzled she’s become since the last time he saw her.

Luther remembered the last time he spoke to her. She had comfortably rubbed his shoulder with a smile as he crammed himself into the small rocket ship. She gave a small wave that he saw through the window, and he remembered thinking he saw a lone tear roll down her cheek.

He didn’t think about it much in the moment, but when his mind wandered to his department day that was all that he could manage to think about. Dad had only given him a curt nod and walked back into the house, not once looking back. Luther had remembered leaving his hand out for him to shake and was met with air. Reginald had turned before he could see. Sheepish, Luther scratched the back of his head instead.

His mother had given him one of her smiles that he would never admit but made him feel a little better. “Oh honey,” she had cooed, giving her son the soft rub on the shoulder. “Your father he . . .” she trailed off, not knowing how to continue.

She suddenly shook her head, “Ah! Isn’t this exciting! I’m sure the stars are beautiful on the Moon.”

He remembered chuckling softly at her longing look to the sky, his embarrassment from earlier slowly ebbing away. “I’m sure it is.” 

His small smile wore off as her daze continued to look toward the sky. “Mom?” he questioned.

That shook her out of her stupor. “Ah! Yes! You should get going. I don’t want to keep you. You have an important mission ahead of you, my little spaceboy.”

He remembered rolling his eyes at the nickname. He was anything but small. But he couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride at her words. _That’s right._ He was still doing good, even with a body like this. His father still needed him, and who was Luther to refuse? He was Number One, after all.

Her smile as he departed was one that he held more dear to his heart than he would ever care to admit.

Now, as he looked at this machine of a woman he couldn’t help but feel his heart sink. He tore his eyes away. She was breaking down. That much was obvious. It was only a matter of time; they all had known it. But now was different.

She still served them breakfast just the same as they were kids.

As coldhearted as he wanted to seem, it pained him to see this thing that he had only known as a mother washing a knife unknowingly slice her hand. They stared at her as Grace rose her palm from the bubbly water, no blood oozing out of the wound. Empty.

She stared at it, transfixed. It was Allison’s voice of concern that broke her stare. She blinked, “Whoops.” Mom said suddenly, a strained smile stretching her lips. Allison started to rise from her chair.

Grace held out her uninjured hand. “Don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be fixed up in a jiffy. You two just enjoy your breakfast. Eat up! Remember,” she said, a finger pointing upward.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

Without another chance to say anything else, Grace quickly slipped out of the room.

Luther pushed his plate away.

Allison slumped back down in the chair; defeat etched in her spine. Her voice soft, “She already said that.”

That was the final straw. As much as it pained Luther, Grace was off the rails and degrading right in front of them. Who knows who she’ll poison next?

He had to tell the others.

He quickly shuffled through his siblings.

The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Diego. Klaus was a crapshoot. Vanya was probably off being pitiful somewhere. Allison already knew.

All that was left was Five.

 

☂ 

 

It took Luther longer than he cared to admit finding Five. He was a sneaky little bastard, Luther would give him that. Though he was one of the few family members that had a solid head on their shoulders.

As Luther’s eyes settled on the van with _Rocco & Family Plumbing Company _pasted in big letters on the side, Luther knew he’d found him.

As he walked up to it Luther vaguely thought what Five could be staking out. He stared across the street to see a lab. What could Five want here?

He quickly pushed his questions aside. It wasn’t important. What was important was Grace and what they were going to do with her, now that he knew she was responsible.

As he glanced in the window, he saw Five’s face. He frowned. Five’s _panicked_ face.

“Five?” he called out, unsure. Five didn’t move. “Five?” he yelled a little louder. No response.

Luther was getting impatient. “Hey, Five!” Luther yelled, knocking on the window.

Five jolted.

“You okay?”

Silence.

Luther pulled at the handle. Locked.

“You gonna let me in?”

 

☂ 

 

Five was always an enigma to Luther, even when they were kids. They always clashed heads. Five, always questioning the rules. Five, always trying to push the envelope a little _too_ far. Five, never satisfied.

Luther never understood it. It irked him to no end. Yes, their childhood wasn’t the greatest. Yes, their father wasn’t winning any Father of the Year Awards. But couldn’t he just be happy with what they got? Their father gave them shelter, food, safety, _each other,_ and that was probably more than the other 36 children their father couldn’t attain ever got. They were lucky. Rather than being alone figuring out their ability, being scared and fearful, they were being praised and applauded for it.

As Luther looked at Five, it was like when they were kids again (in this scenario, Luther reminded himself, Five _was_ a kid again). And Luther, for the life of him, still could never understand what he was thinking.

Though the panic from before Luther entered the van still lingered on Five’s face. Luther swallowed, “You okay?”

“Hmm? What?”

“You okay?” Luther repeated.

He studied Five as Five knitted his eyebrows together in thought. In all the physical ways Five looked like he last saw him, but there was this distant look in his eye. This . . . unnamed _terror._ Luther would never admit it, but that look made his insides curdle.

Five took a shaky breath, with a slight shake of his head, “You shouldn’t . . .” He cleared his throat, his voice a little stronger. “How did you find me?”

Luther lifted his phone, a small bloom of pride in his chest. “Tracker.”

“Ah.”

“Word of advice, Five.” Luther attempted to lean toward him. “Next time, if you don’t want to be found, maybe don’t take the Stakeout Van.” He couldn’t help the small teasing smile creep up on his lips.

Five emitted something close to a half scoff-half laugh. “Duly noted.”

Five then turned to stare back out the front window. Luther saw how his fingers tapped restlessly at the wheel. “Old habits die hard, I guess.” He spoke, his voice distant, reminiscent of that look in his eyes.

Luther only hummed in response.

Silence loomed throughout the car as they both looked out of the front window.

Five barely even glanced in Luther’s direction. Luther looked between what apparently Five was looking at, and Five himself. He licked his lips, opening his mouth, unsure of what his next words would be. That look, that panicked, terrified look was still settled on Five’s features. So many questions were rising in Luther’s throat. Where Five went, what took him so long . . . questions that he had be ruminating on for the past 17 years. Though as his eyes settled on his brother, worry overtook his words.

 “What are you doing here, Five?” Careful. His voice gravelly and soft. Luther truly wanted to know, as much as this conversation delayed in voicing his findings with Grace . . . he felt the urge to know, to uncover what happened while Five was away, to understand. He needed all his siblings in the right mind set to make a righteous decision about Grace.

Five sighed as he looked out the side window, tired. Five began to open his mouth, then stopped himself, as if reconsidering. Then bit out. “Doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t understand anyway." 

The softening feeling in Luther’s chest quickly turned to ice. Luther shook his head and scoffed, just when he thought they were finding some common ground. Anger simmered in his mind. Luther opened his mouth, about to -

Suddenly Five’s voice filled the van, his voice a lot softer, as if talking to someone else entirely. “I know, I honestly can’t believe it either, Dolores.”

Luther side eyed his brother, now looking between him and the mannequin shoved in between their seats. _How long had_ that _been there?_ Suddenly his anger morphed into confusion _. Dolores?_ Luther mouthed, unsure. He was sure Five wasn’t talking to him, he hadn’t said anything. But that didn’t stop him.

“Are you talking to me?” Luther questioned.

Five rolled his eyes, his voice almost bored. “If I was talking to you, we would have had a conversation to begin with.”

Luther accepted this as an answer, wilting slightly (if Luther could _even_ wilt with a body like his).

But his curiosity bloomed as he eyed the mannequin. Its unmoving face, its dull eyes. A piece of her right eyelash slightly mauled. A bullet hole pierced the shoulder. It was borderline creepy. What was Five doing with it? What did Five see in . . . _it?_

He opened his mouth, about to –

“Stop staring at my girl.”

Luther couldn’t stop himself. “Your _girl_?”

A tense silence followed as Five now seemed it was appropriate to actually face him this time.

He didn’t seem amused. “Yes, girl. What _else_ would you call her?” Five asked, as if it should be obvious.

Luther, as socially inept as he was for staying in the Academy all his life, could tell that it was supposed to be a rhetorical question (because _apparently_ it was supposed to be _obvious_ that the first thing to come to mind when looking at a mannequin was that it was a girl and not an inanimate object).

Luther debated on voicing this, but as he glanced over at Five to see his knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so intensely, narrowing eyes now facing the glass. Luther gathered that he struck a nerve.

“Sorry.” Luther coughed, trying to distill the tense silence filling the car. He attempted to scratch the back of his head out of habit but realized he couldn’t. His coat restricting him.

“Um,” he started again, eyeing Five’s clenched fists, a knot of guilt tightened in his chest. Here he was, sitting in a car with his missing brother, and . . .  whatever what was going on with that mannequin he’d rather not know. But no matter how off beat it was how could Luther call himself a leader, _Number One,_ if –

“Can you shut up?” Five’s coarse voice cut.

“What?” Luther blurted again, unaware that he was even speaking, _but he wasn’t -_

Five side eyed him as Luther swallowed, “You’re thinking too loud. It’s distracting.”

Luther scoffed, almost now having the criminal teenage urge to cross his arms and glare out the window, but that was not what good leaders do. That was not what _brothers_ do.

He admits, it takes courage. The strange silence with his 13-year-old-but-actually-58-year-old brother was almost as suffocating as Luther felt in his jacket. He swallowed and licked his lips.

He needed to be better than when they were kids. He needed to understand. 

“How did you meet, um –“ he motioned to the mannequin. Not knowing if it was offensive calling it ‘it’, and it would be too weird for him to call it a ‘her’, it being an _it_.

“Dolores?” Five finished.

“Uh, yeah.” Luther said elegantly.

As the words rolled off his tongue Luther slowly felt the atmosphere change into something more . . . soft.

Maybe it was the way Five’s hands slightly relaxed on the wheel, or maybe it was how his eyes now softened with memories.

Five smiled - it striked Luther then, that it was the first time he had _seen_ his brother smile - then Five turned to the doll in question, chuckling as if someone had said something -. “Oh, stop it. Dolores,” he mumbled softly. _Fond._

Luther cleared his throat. It didn’t dispel how awkward he felt, suddenly realizing he was a third wheel. Even if the mannequin was inanimate the fondness in Five’s voice couldn’t be mistaken.

Luther took a breath, his big mouth faster than his brain. “What –“

“If you want to know the answer to a question, _Luther,_ ” Five cut off, “then let me have a chance to actually _answer._ ”

He heard Five then exhale loudly in the driver’s seat, his fingers resumed the tapping on the wheel.

Five shook his head. “No, I –“ he was cut off, as if someone else was talking over him. As if on cue Five turned to the mannequin. His voice tired, as if they have had this argument many times. The words they fired at each other well worn (well, Five’s anyway).

“That’s ridiculous, Dolores.” Five rolled his eyes, then scoffed, “I – do you remember what we’re trying to do here? Save _everyone,_ ” Five hissed, his voice like venom.

Five nodded as he groaned, hearing words that Luther couldn’t. Five suddenly rose his hands up in surrender. “Fine. _Fine_.” 

Luther glanced at Five out of the corner of his eye. He suddenly saw Five deflate. Five dropped his head, pressing his forehead against the horn, though not putting enough pressure for it to sound off.

Five mumbled.

“What?” Luther asked, apparently that being the only word in his vocabulary.

“I said ‘sorry’,” Five whispered. “But don’t get used to it,” he added hastily, that distant coldness returning to his voice. Though that demeanor only lasted for a few more seconds before Five took a deep breath and lifted his head from the wheel. Now pressing the back of his cranium in the shoulder of the seat, not tall enough to press into the headrest. 

Five opened his eyes and stared at the roof, not daring to look at the passenger. His eyes drifting off again.

Luther stilled as he stared at his brother. With his sagging posture and drifting eyes . . . Luther had never seen Five look so _lost_ before. Five, who always had an answer. Five, who never cared about what anyone else thought. Five, always annoyingly sure of himself.

As Luther stared at him now, his impression that he held to Five for the past 30 years seemed to crumble away.  This boy – _man –_ in front of him, while still wearing the same face when Luther last saw him, was unrecognizable.

Luther’s heart ached.

“Five –” Luther began.

Five’s voice suddenly perked up. “Look, I know things are difficult. I know you’re all confused. Especially with my being here. But trust me, Luther, when I say that I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be.”

Luther crinkled his eyebrows. “What are you -" 

“I understand that the old man kicking the bucket is a big deal to you, but that’s the least of your worries.” Five took a sharp breath, “I _get_ your whole world is crumbling, Luther, but my world’s been crumbling all around me for the past 40 years.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. As if it pained him to say the next words. He took another breath, “The apocalypse is coming in six days, and I’m here to stop it.” He swallowed as he rose his head to look out toward the building across the street again. “Just to get back and save you all.”

Silence loomed for a moment before Five turned his head towards Luther, his voice resigned. “So, if you’re going to ask me what to do about Mom, or what color socks to wear. Don’t bother, because in six days it won’t matter anyway.”

Luther opened his mouth, then closed it.

His mind was buzzing, grasping at words, trying to make sense of it all. All that came out was:

“Five . . . what are you saying?” Luther shook his head, disbelieved, “That the world’s ending? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Five scoffed, “Yeah, and it doesn’t make sense that I traveled back in time, or that our brother sees dead people, _or_ that you haven’t seen me in 17 years, and I look like,” Five motioned to himself, “ _this._ ” Five grimaced.

Luther only looked at him.

“None of this makes sense to you.” Five mumbled, his words back with a sharp edge, “With a sheltered pea brain like yours, I can see how this is a little difficult to comprehend –“

“ _Hey –_ ”

Five then turned to Luther, eyes sharp, “But that’s what’s happening. So, either you’re with me, or in my way. Your choice.”

All Luther could do was gape at his brother. As he stared, Luther realized that there has been something  . . .off about Five since the moment he arrived. It could be the alleged 40 years Five was stuck in the ‘future’, or it could be . . .

“Five,” Luther began. “W-We should get you back home. Dad was right, time travel obviously messed with your head. You’re not thinking straight, you need to rest, we can talk about Grace in the morning.”

Luther was met with silence. Fear lived in Luther’s heart.

“Of course.” Five mumbled under his breath.

“Five, you – “

“You know,” Five said, now turning to him. “I should’ve expected this. You always do this. Every time I think, ‘ _Ah, Luther finally has a brain.’_ You prove me wrong. Even when we were kids.”

Five shook his head, “I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up. You’re all the same, too young, too naïve, too –”

Luther was grasping at straws. “Five, you’re not making sense.” Five, saying outlandish things, Five, off his rocker. Five–

“You’re sick, Five. You need help. Dad -”

“I’m perfectly fine _. You’re_ the one that’s sick, Luther.” Five scoffed, “You must be clinically insane to think that Dad ever cared about us! What is with you trying to avenge him? _He didn’t care!_ We were his _puppets,_ Luther. Do you understand that? The only thing that cared about us was a robot that he –”

“I won’t have you disrespect Dad like that!” Luther was fuming. “Grace _murdered_ Dad, Five!” Luther yelled. The words rang out throughout the van.

Silence consumed them for a moment. Luther’s voice lowered slightly, “So we need to make a decision as a group about what to do with Grace, it’s important, she’s –“ 

“Ha!” Five laughed, cold. ‘It’s important.’ You have no _concept_ of what’s important. After all of what I just told you,” Five sighed, “I thought you were different.” Luther could be mistaken but he swore he heard a twinge of sadness in his brother’s words. 

That wasn’t going to stop him. “You need to come home, Five. You’re not thinking straight, you’re not –“

“Last time I checked, Luther, I don’t _need_ to do anything.”

“Last _I_ checked I’m still the leader of this family, so –”

“And last I checked, I’m 28 years older than you.”

They were at a stalemate.

Tense silence filled the air before Luther broke it, “I guess we agree to disagree then.”

Five narrowed his eyes, “I guess we will.”

Luther was always clumsy with words, and now, with movement as he leaned out of the car. He sighed; this was his last-ditch effort. “You need to come home, Five. Please. Grace -”

As he turned, he was met with Five’s middle finger.

“Oh, screw you, Five.” Luther yelled over his shoulder as he slammed the door, causing the car to rock.

He saw Five mouth, _Fuck you!_

Luther stuck his middle finger up at him.

As he was walking backwards, Five winded the window down. “Good job, _Number One._ Way to be a leader!”

Anger simmered on Luther’s tongue.

“And way to be there when your family needs you!” Luther shot back.

Luther waited for his response, but it never came.

Somehow, Five’s silence was worse.

 

 ☂ 

**Author's Note:**

> ive been working on this for the past few weeks so lemme know what you thought ! 
> 
> i obv took some creative 'liberties' so the van that Five stole I deemed the Family Stake Out Van, while ik it's not completely out of character for Five to straight up just Steal a vehicle, but i thought it would be a interesting dynamic of going back to old habits, etc. 
> 
> also, fun fact: when i initially conceived this story it was going to be from Five's POV, with him having a convo with Dolores while Luther and him were having this conversation, and when Luther asked how they met there would be a flashback on how Five did,, but ! plans change ! 
> 
> I also surprisingly enjoyed writing Luther and Grace's dynamic !! 
> 
> I actually kind of liked how this turned out so :) !


End file.
